


atlas

by liviablackthorn



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR LOS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-09 16:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11108631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liviablackthorn/pseuds/liviablackthorn
Summary: "the blue green below is a masterpiece, but you are beautiful like i've never seen."in which kit would hold the entirety of the sky on his shoulders if it meant ty was okay.(takes place after LoS ends, contains major spoilers!)





	1. ave atque vale

**Author's Note:**

> hey! 
> 
> so, this first chapter was something had to be written in order for me to feel some kind of closure after the end of LoS. then it just kind of spiraled into something bigger.
> 
> the title was inspired by the song "atlas: heart" by sleeping at last, which reminds me a lot of kit thinking about ty (it makes me so emo i'm,, i love these bo ys)
> 
> enjoy! please let me know what you think, you can leave a comment or message me on tumblr (tyblackthxrn)!

_ Ave atque vale _ . 

Before, Kit Herondale hadn’t known what those words meant. He hadn’t needed them, had no use for such an archaic phrase. 

Until the day that he, and so many others, lost Livia Blackthorn. 

He hadn’t seen it happen. He hadn’t been there when what was left of the Mortal Sword pierced Livvy’s heart. Her pure, strong heart, that had been through so much too soon. He would have hated being there, like he hated everything that followed. The crisp white suits, the pyres and prayers and Silent Brothers that haunted his nightmares, like memories of Livvy that wouldn’t go away.

Kit would be lying if he said he hadn’t searched for her, everywhere. Herondales could see ghosts, couldn’t they? He looked for her in every room, every corner, desperate to know if she was there. If she was alright. 

He hadn’t been there. But he had heard the clock chiming the hour. Maybe that was why she wasn’t hanging around. 

More than the funeral and the prayers, Kit hated the memories. He hadn’t known her for long, no, but he had so much of her in his heart. That he was her first  _ (last)  _ kiss. That he had promised they would be friends — always. Was it him that had broken the promise, or her? Did it matter, when so much more had been broken besides that promise? The Mortal Sword, the unprotected skin over Livvy’s heart.  _ Ty’s heart _ . 

After, he had found Ty on the roof, clutching his knees to his chest, headphones on over his ears. He sat facing the sea, where dark waves were crashing violently to shore, but Kit knew he didn’t see them. Didn’t hear them. He knew the world could be too much for Ty, and seeing him so vulnerable and so visibly wounded struck something soft in Kit. 

Kit sat beside him, gently tugging on his sweater so he didn’t startle him.

Ty looked at him — and something in his iron eyes pulled on that soft space in Kit’s chest, hard. Ty’s eyes were red and silver, bloodshot. Sometimes, he could be hard to read, but now, everything was there for Kit to see. The anguish, the agony, the space in him that had been ripped away and hollowed out when Livvy died. 

“What does it mean?” asked Kit, because he didn’t know what else to say. What he could possibly say. “ _ Ave atque vale. _ ”

“‘Hail and farewell,’” Ty answered, in a voice that was both broken and soft, hoarse from the screaming, and the sobs that had followed. “It’s customary.” He turned his face back towards the sea, chin resting atop his knees. 

Kit didn’t ask if he was alright. He knew better than that. He knew  _ Ty _ better than that. So, instead, he said, “Tell me.” Ever since a different night, on a different roof, miles from Los Angeles, that phrase had been theirs — something Kit asked Ty whenever he knew there was something wrong. A declaration, of sorts.  _ I know your mind is racing. So tell me how I can slow you down. _

But tonight, it was a different sort of declaration.

_ I know it hurts. I know it’s too much. I know it’s so broken that it won’t be fixed, not by me. But let me try _ . 

Tiberius sniffed, a noise that sounded all too delicate coming from a Shadowhunter. The sniff was followed by a gasp, which was followed by a silver tear that rolled quickly down the soft curve of his cheek and onto his white sweater. It left a dark spot there, a stain that Kit wanted to wipe away, but couldn’t. 

“Don’t leave me.” Ty’s voice was half of what it usually was. He sounded like he had lost his breath. “Kit, don’t leave me.” Ty turned away from the ocean to reach for him, his hands turning to fists in the fabric of Kit’s shirt. 

“I’m not,” Kit said, surprised by the fierceness in his own voice, the truth in that promise. He shifted towards Ty so the other boy could rest his head against Kit’s shoulder, and Kit wrapped his arms around him. “I’m not going to leave you.” He refused to acknowledge that he’d made a similar promise to Livvy.

_ You’ll always be my friend, right? _

_ Of course _ . 

Ty began to cry again, and Kit held him tighter, tightly enough that Ty could feel his arms, tightly enough that Ty knew he wasn’t going to leave him alone. 

“After all,” Kit said quietly, for his mouth was close to Ty’s ear — close enough that if he shifted only slightly, his lips would touch it, “Watson would never leave Sherlock.” 

Ty pulled away to look at him. It registered to Kit that their faces were only inches apart, and that now if he shifted only slightly, his lips wouldn’t be touching Ty’s ear, but  _ his _ lips. His eyes were still red, and when he sniffed again a few more tears spilled from them. The fragile skin around them had turned pink. He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his sweater. He looked so  _ human _ . 

“You hate it when I call you Watson.”

“I’m warming up to it,” Kit admitted. He seemed to have no control of his own hands as one of them reached up to push away a strand of Ty’s hair that had been stuck to his face, wet with tears. He tried to be gentle. Always gentle with Ty. 

“Sorry. That was bothering me.”

“‘S’okay.” Ty’s lower lip quivered, and Kit’s heart swelled to the size of the Pacific Ocean just beyond them. He wondered briefly what the ocean would think of all this, these two boys holding each other on a roof, one crying, one trying desperately to keep them together. 

It was pointless to say sorry for what had happened to Livvy. Ty didn’t want to hear that, didn’t understand why Kit would offer him an apology. Ty liked words that meant something. Things that mattered.

So Kit said, “She’d be proud of you.”

“For what?” Ty’s voice broke, shattering like a frosted glass. “I should have been there, I should have  _ done _ something. It’s my fault, Kit,  _ my fault _ —”

“ _ Ty _ .” Kit gripped him tighter. “Tiberius. How could you have known? Did you have a Clairvoyance rune I didn’t know about? There was no way for you to change what happened.” Ty buried his head in the space between Kit’s neck and his shoulder. “You’re so strong,” Kit said into his ear. He said the words again, lest the wind carry them off. “Didn’t you know that? You’re so brave. You told me you didn’t need Livvy to protect you—”

“I was wrong,” Ty said through his tears, the words muffled by Kit’s shirt. “That was before she died,” he breathed. “She’s gone. I thought I could do it but I can’t, I  _ can’t _ .” 

“You can,” Kit said. There was that fierceness again. 

Ty pulled away from him again, far enough to dart his eyes across Kit’s face, but not far enough that his grip loosened. “How can you be so sure?”

Kit hesitated. “I can’t. I can’t, Ty. I thought I was sure that everything would be okay. That Annabel was good and she was on our side.” He managed to swallow the lump in his throat. He would not break down. Not while Ty needed him to be strong. “I can’t be sure of anything. But I know you, Ty. I know you are strong, and you are brave, and you are not alone. You have Julian, and Mark, and Tavvy and Dru—”

“I have you.” Ty’s voice sounded so small. Once again, the fabric of Kit’s shirt twisted as Ty pulled him closer. Then, he did something surprised him.

He pressed his brow to Kit’s, eyes shut as he rested his head against Kit, who could barely breathe. 

He’d meant it when he told Ty that he was strong. But he’d also meant it when he said that he couldn’t be sure of anything. He was learning too quickly how often Shadowhunters lost things. Lost each other. Nothing in this new world of his was sure.

Well.

Nothing but the feeling of Ty’s arms around him. Nothing but the scent of him, ink and wool and now tears. Nothing but the patterns he tapped on Kit’s back, a steady rhythm to match Kit’s thudding heart (which he worried might give him away). 

Of these things, and little else, Kit Herondale was sure of. 

 


	2. observations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dru just wants to make things better. kit just wants poptarts.

In all honesty, Dru Blackthorn didn’t like the beach at all. She didn’t like bathing suits, didn’t like sand or the sun. To Dru, the only thing the beach really had going for it was the ocean. Oh, the ocean.  
If it didn’t terrify her, she supposed she’d like very much to dive in and swim away. It wasn’t the ocean itself she feared. It was more the feeling it gave her, the feeling that she could be swallowed up whole and drift away, away, away. The knowledge that there were some things that would take you away and never give you back.

Though it belittled her in its vastness, Drusilla liked that her eyes matched the ocean. Her eyes made her a Blackthorn. They made her like her brothers and sisters, who were strong and bright and wonderful. She knew that one day she could be just as strong as they were. Her ocean eyes were a promise, a reminder of that day.

Dru made her way towards the shore, where her brother stood with his back to her. She had followed Julian from the Institute and down the sandy path to the beach, crinkling her nose as the sand clung to her bare feet and legs.

“Jules,” she called out. There wasn’t any wind today, but there was a breeze strong enough to tug a few strands of her dark hair from their braids. She shoved them behind her ears as Julian turned.

  
He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. She couldn’t blame him. Since the Blackthorns returned to the Los Angeles Institute alone, the Centurions wanting nothing to do with them, there had been an impenetrable silence. Dru tried to make it better. Julian had told her she was the heart of this family, so she had tried to make them okay, despite knowing there was little that could be done to fix what had happened in Idris. She couldn’t be Livvy, and she couldn’t make the pain go away, but perhaps she could make them smile again.

“Hey, Dru. Everything okay?” Julian asked. His eyes squinted in the light of the sun.

“I — yeah.” She tucked another stray bit of hair behind her ear. “I thought maybe later today we could all go to Hidden Treasures. Usually Emma goes by herself, but I was thinking it might be fun if we could go. All of us.” Dru had prided herself in this idea. All of them would pile into the car, put down the windows, and bicker over who got to control the stereo (Emma). Emma would stick her feet up on the dashboard, Dru would sing along to whatever was playing, absentmindedly twisting Tavvy’s hair into tiny braids. Cristina would be watching the scenery as it rolled by outside the car, Kit would have his eyes closed, sun on his face, and Ty would have his headphones up over his ears, drowning out the commotion that would undoubtedly unfold as soon as Tavvy squirmed and accidentally elbowed someone in the ribs.

And things would be a little normal.

Things would be a little okay.

“I don’t know, Dru,” Julian said. “I have some pretty important stuff to take care of here. Maybe you and the boys could take Tavvy, that might be fun, right?” He looked worried. He looked sad. Dru began to realize she hadn’t really fixed anything at all. “Or all of us can go, another day.”

Dru’s heart sank like a stone. Her idea, which would have worked, she was sure, turned out to be useless after all. She nodded. “Sure. Another day.”

Julian smiled that half smile again. He reached down to take her hand before turning towards the sea again, and he got a far away look in his eyes, like he too wanted to dive into the blue and swim away. However, Dru suspected it wasn’t fear that was keeping her brother here, but something else entirely.

They stood side by side, hand in hand, and watched the waves break.

X

“Are you hungry?” Ty asked Kit, who was looking right past him. “Because I was going to make something. If you wanted anything.”  
Kit’s blond eyebrows raised. “You can cook?”

“No, of course I can’t. But I can make cereal. And PopTarts.” Ty opened the cabinet and brought down two boxes: strawberry and brown sugar cinnamon PopTarts.

These, of all things, made Kit’s entire face light up in a pretty sort of way. He had a pretty sort of face, Ty supposed, like a doll, or a model. He looked the way a Herondale was supposed to look.

“No way! I love PopTarts. Especially the strawberry ones.” He reached into the box that Ty had placed on the table and took out a package, the silver foil catching the light from the windows. Kit tore the corner off and flung it in the general direction of the trash can. It floated in the air for a moment before making its descent onto the floor, landing beside Ty’s foot. He bent down to pick it up and deposited it safely in the bin. When he straightened his spine again, Kit was already halfway through the first pastry.

“ _Kit_ ,” Ty said, close to appalled. Kit froze. Crumbs fell from his lips. Without thinking, Ty reached out, using his thumb to brush away the sugar and bits of PopTart. There were thoughts in his head then that he didn’t pay attention to — thoughts about how Kit’s lips would taste like artificial strawberries and whatever the hell else was in those things. They weren’t alarming thoughts; just observations. They didn’t mean anything.

“What?”

Ty could feel himself blushing as he realized he’d forgotten to take his hand away from Kit’s lips. He yanked his hand back gracelessly. “One, you’re a really messy eater. Two, I’m fairly sure you’re supposed to heat those up.”

“You are?” Kit asked. “I don’t think so. I can confidently say that I have never heated up a PopTart. They’re better like this. _Au naturel_.”

“There is nothing natural about those,” Ty said frankly, reaching into the box of cinnamon brown sugar PopTarts. They were sweet, but not in a way that tasted odd to him, like the strawberry ones or the chocolate ones did. He slipped them out of the foil and into the toaster.

“My dad used to give these to me all the time. ‘Kit, I’m having a meeting, it’s PopTarts for dinner tonight.’” Kit’s face was unreadable. His tone was unreadable. Was he angry at his father for not being much of a father at all, or... Were PopTart nights a fond memory for him? Ty didn’t know. He just sat down at the table beside Kit.

“None of my brothers or sisters can cook, really, except for Mark and Julian. Julian makes the best breakfasts. Sometimes Livvy and I would try to help, but he said the stuff that we tried to put in the batter was gross, so we never did much.” He wanted to stop talking, but didn’t. “I don’t really think that chocolate syrup in pancakes could be _that bad_ , though. I mean, they have chocolate chips in pancakes. I don’t see the difference.” He glanced sideways at Kit, who was smiling at him. Really smiling, like he couldn’t be happier to be sitting at the kitchen table listening to Ty talk about pancakes.  
  
“What?” Ty demanded. “Why’re you smiling like that?”

Kit said nothing, but got up from the table, PopTarts abandoned. He then disappeared into the pantry. Ty could hear that he was making a mess. Moments later, he emerged, a variety of ingredients in his arms.

“Alright, Sherlock. We’re gonna solve this mystery once and for all.”

“What mystery?” Ty questioned, though he could feel his heart beginning to race. “The mystery of how many boxes of pancake batter you can hold in your arms? Because I think you’ve got that one sussed.” He counted five boxes.

Kit rolled his eyes. “Of course not. No, we’re going to solve a much more important mystery than that. The mystery is whether or not chocolate syrup pancakes really are any good.”

Ty couldn’t help himself. He grinned hard enough to hurt his lips. “Okay. Okay. Let’s solve it then, Watson.” The smile Kit returned was worth the slight pain. It was worth so much.

 

 

They were the most terrible pancakes Ty had ever tasted (but perhaps that was because Kit didn't know how to use the stove).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was short and a lil stupid but ! i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless (:


	3. spellbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not that he would ever admit it, but kit herondale has never been happier.  
> /  
> cristina hates 'africa' by toto.

_ still trying // nathaniel rateliff _

Not that he would ever admit it, but Kit Herondale had never been happier. He had never, in his fifteen years, felt more content than he did lying on his bed across from Ty Blackthorn, listening to him read from the ancient Sherlock Holmes book he nabbed from the London Institute before absolutely everything went to hell. Ty had been spending a lot of time in Kit’s room recently; Kit imagined it was hard for him to be across the hall from Livvy’s empty bedroom. It wasn’t as if he minded. 

It was a  _ ridiculously _ old volume, bound in a stiff red material that Kit noticed Ty liked to run his fingers across, feeling the grooves and what was left of the lettering on the cover. Kit was willing to bet it was home to a few thousand dust mites. Almost every time Ty turned the page, Kit sneezed, which he could tell Ty found amusing by the slight quirk of his mouth while he read.

Kit told himself he was going to pay attention. He really did. And he  _ had _ tried to, really. But when he was lying beside Tiberius in his bed, he found that he had trouble concentrating. For some reason that he had trouble placing, the timbre of Ty’s voice was a bit intoxicating. Kit wanted to close his eyes and  _ listen _ , not to the words but to the sound. But at the same time, he knew how much Ty cared about this. He had been ecstatic when Kit agreed to read the Sherlock Holmes books.

“Or,” Kit had began casually, trying not to sound too hopeful, “you could read them to me. Y’know, just... something to do.” He had been nervous asking, like he was asking someone out on a date. So when Ty had looked up, genuine excitement in his iron eyes, Kit’s heart stopped going seventy miles per hour and started doing somersaults. 

So there they were. 

Not that he would ever admit it, but Kit Herondale was spellbound. 

“‘Education never ends, Watson,’” Ty was saying. Kit watched the way his lips formed the words, the way his eyes scanned the page quickly, processing the printed lines. “‘It is a series of lessons, with the greatest for last.’” He paused. His eyes flicked from the book to Kit, who was watching him, hand cupped in chin. “Are you bored? We can stop.”

“No, I’m not bored at all,” Kit said, realizing he’d been caught staring. If Ty noticed, he didn’t say anything, but Kit was pretty sure it would’ve been hard not to notice the blush he could feel staining his face. Again he made an effort to keep the earnestness from his voice, but he felt as if he was keeping a secret. He wanted Ty to know how much he liked listening to him read. He wanted Ty to know how un-bored he was. He wanted Ty to know that something weird and a little concerning was going on in Kit’s head. Something weird that he was scared to give attention to, because if he did, it would surely spiral out of control. It was  _ that _ kind of weird, and Kit didn’t want to think about it. 

But Ty smiled. Kit couldn’t help but think about it. 

“Do you like it so far?” he was asking, sitting up and folding his long legs criss-cross. 

“The book?”  _ Stupid _ , Kit chastised himself.  _ What else would he mean, asshole? _ “Yeah. Yeah, I like it a lot. It’s better than the trash I used to read, that’s for sure.”

“What did you used to read? We have a lot of books here. If you could find it then maybe you could read to me.” 

“Oh,” Kit said, unsure of what else to say. Not that he didn’t want to read to Ty, not that he didn’t want more hours spent like this — he just didn’t think Ty would like what he did. “Oh.”

Ty’s eyes darted back to the book in his hands. He flicked through the pages with his fingertips. “We don’t have to do that. Just a suggestion.”

“Ty, no, it was a good idea, I’m just...” Kit hesitated. Then sighed heavily, throwing caution to the wind. “Do you like  _ Harry Potter _ ?”

“No,” answered Ty, and Kit’s heart spiraled downwards like a deflated balloon. “But that’s sort of unfair to say, seeing as I’ve never actually read it. And you like it. So if that’s what you want to read to me then that’s alright.”

Kit smiled before he knew what he was doing. This always seemed to be the way he acted around Ty; act first, think second. “Okay. Sounds good.” There was a pause, a silence Kit felt desperate to fill, but Ty didn’t seem to mind it. Kit reached out anyways. Kit reached out even though he knew it was a shot in the dark. Kit reached out because this thing inside him was kind of definitely pretty hard to ignore. Kit reached out because he’d been reckless with this feeling before and he didn’t want to be reckless now.

Kit reached out because he was knew what this was. “Do you want to go get dinner?” 

Tiberius didn’t even blink. “I didn’t think the takeout was here yet. Is it?”

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed, but he figured the feeling that flooded him was something like relief. For now, he hadn’t given himself away. But he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. Tiptoeing around what his heart would hiss at him in the dark before he fell asleep. Avoiding the secret that even Livvy knew before he had. 

For now, he was safe.

“I’m not sure. Wanna go check?” he asked, and Ty nodded, standing up and brushing off his dark jeans. He was already moving towards the door. 

“I’m really hungry. Do you think Julian ordered lo mein? I love lo mein.” He swung out of Kit’s room and into the hall. His dark head appeared in the door. “Are you coming? You did want to get dinner, right?” 

“Yeah, I did. I’m coming.”

Not that he would ever admit it, but Kit Herondale had a crush. 

 

X

 

“Why are you showing this to me.” It wasn’t a question. Nevertheless, Emma Carstairs’s face split into a grin. 

“Because this is one of the blessings bestowed upon us by the Angel,” she assured Cristina.

“Emma, I’m fairly sure this is just a pitiful acoustic cover of Toto’s ‘Africa’.”

Emma nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what this is. And it’s synonymous with ‘one of the blessings bestowed upon us by the Angel.’” 

Cristina shook her head. The cover really was horrendous, but Emma supposed that was why it made her so happy. She had begged Cristina to come for a drive with her, just to get out of the Institute for an hour or so. They hadn’t had time to themselves for a while, and it felt so damn good just to smile, to feel the wind in her hair, to speed down the empty ribbon of road before them.

For days after returning to the Institute, Emma hadn’t been able to do anything but run. She ran up and down the stretch of beach near the Institute until he knees collapsed from under her. Until even the ocean wasn’t listening to her cries of anger anymore. Until she was finally able to face the Blackthorns again.

Cristina had been there, knowing the loss they had suffered was great, knowing she could not fix it. But she was there nonetheless. 

“Do you think he’s trying to sound awful?” Emma pondered aloud, turning the volume up a few notches. 

“Definitely. That is the only explanation.” Cristina paused. “Emma, we should head back. It’s getting dark.” 

Emma sighed. Through the windshield, she could see the sun dipping below the horizon, bright, blazing, beautiful, and an utter bastard for cutting short her time with Cristina. And her time with the traumatizing acoustic cover of Toto’s ‘Africa’, which was on repeat, and starting over now. 

“Oh, no,” groaned Cristina. The Institute was appearing in the distance now, growing larger as Emma sped towards it. “Not again.”

“You love it,” said Emma. “It’s okay, Tina. It’s okay to love it.” 

“That was unholy.” She slammed her palm against the power button on the stereo.

Emma glared. “Toto deserves better.”

Cristina rolled her eyes. Her eyebrows creased, and her brown eyes searched Emma’s face. “How is Julian?”

Emma swallowed the lump that appeared in her throat at the sound of his name. She shrugged, pulling into the Institute. “Don’t know. I’ve tried to talk to him, but he won’t —” She paused. “If you want to try and talk to him, be my guest. But he refuses to open up to me.”

She snapped her seatbelt off and turned to face Cristina. “He’s my  _ parabatai _ . ‘Whither thou goest, I shall go.’ They left out, ‘When thou is going through unimaginable pain, I shall talk you down.’ I guess it doesn’t count for much,” she grumbled.

“Emma...”

“I know. He needs his space to grieve in private, but — he’s never shut me out so wholly before.” Emma tried to understand. She knew Livia’s death left an unfillable hole in him, as it did in all of them. She’d been counting on the fact that they had each other. They were family. 

She took a deep breath. “I know he’s not alright, and I know there’s nothing I can do. But I want to try, and he won’t  _ let me _ —” 

“Who won’t let you do what?”

Emma Carstairs, a trained warrior, an elite, half-angel breed of fighter, yelped. It was Dru standing outside the car, looking curiously inside. 

“Dru, you—”

“Sorry if I scared you. The food’s here. They sent me out to see if you were back yet, and to tell you the food is here if you were. So. You are, and, um, the food’s here.”

“Got it,” Emma said, catching her breath. “Yep.” She took another breath. Alright, Emma. Keep it together. “Let’s go. C’mon, Tina — I’m starving. Must be all that fearless warrior-ing.” 

“That is not a word, Emma,” Cristina mumbled. 


End file.
